Fic - A mech's gotta dream
Title: A mech's gotta dream
Continuity: G1
Rating: G
Genre: cracky genfic
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox, characters not mine.
Characters: Spike, Sparkplug, Chip, Ratchet
Summary: Spike’s bored, and decides to ask his dad a question.
Notes: Written to this prompt at tf_speedwriting. 474 words, 50 minutes.
“Dad?” Spike said.
“Yeah?” Sparkplug’s voice was muffled, his top half swallowed by the inner workings of Teletraan One. “What’s up, son?”
Spike toed the ground, hands in his pockets. He had no idea how, in a crashed alien spaceship full of giant robot aliens, he could possibly be this bored. But he was. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Ratchet flashed him a kind smile, then went back to soldering. Spike wasn’t sure what he was working on, but it looked complicated. At a smaller table, Chip laboured over another part of the same device, his attention wholly absorbed.
“I dunno,” Sparkplug replied. There was the sound of metal knocking against metal. “Think I wanted to be a car mechanic for a while, work on classic models.”
“Instead, you got us,” Ratchet said.
“Well, you are kinda classic,” Sparkplug laughed. “But yeah, Spike, I fell into engineering by accident. Why’d you ask?”
Because I’m bored out of my tiny little mind, Spike thought. Everyone else has something to do, and I don’t. “Uh, no reason,” he replied. “Just interested.”
“What about you?” Chip said, not looking up from his work. Spike opened his mouth to respond about half a second before he realised that the question wasn’t aimed at him. He shut it again, trying to make it look like a yawn.
Ratchet propped the soldering iron in its stand, a curious expression on his face.
“What kind of a question’s that?” Sparkplug called, his lower half vanishing after the rest of him. “You know he was never a kid!”
“I dunno,” Ratchet said. “When I was new off the conveyor, I did some pretty dumb things.”
“Ha!” Sparkplug’s voice echoed. “I bet you did!”
Spike perked up; he’d heard of Ratchet’s stories, but had never been lucky enough to be around when they got told. Chip also looked interested, although he was still tinkering with the circuit boards.
“Wouldn’t call any of them the work of a mature adult,” Ratchet mused. “But yes, Chip’s question…”
Spike un-perked.
“I was built as a medic,” Ratchet said. “It’s in my programming. It’s all I wanted to be back when I was new, the best damned medic there ever was.” He shrugged and offered Chip the same kind smile he’d given to Spike a minute or so before. “But your core programming only dictates your dreams for so long. I still wanted to be a medic, hard luck if I didn’t, but I used to get these urges, still do sometimes, like I’d make a really great party planner.”
Chip snickered, and Sparkplug’s laugher rang through the maintenance space.
“A party planner?” Spike said, trying to look as though he’d known it was a joke all along.
Ratchet shrugged. “A mech’s gotta dream.”
Continuity: G1
Rating: G
Genre: cracky genfic
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox, characters not mine.
Characters: Spike, Sparkplug, Chip, Ratchet
Summary: Spike’s bored, and decides to ask his dad a question.
Notes: Written to this prompt at tf_speedwriting. 474 words, 50 minutes.
“Dad?” Spike said.
“Yeah?” Sparkplug’s voice was muffled, his top half swallowed by the inner workings of Teletraan One. “What’s up, son?”
Spike toed the ground, hands in his pockets. He had no idea how, in a crashed alien spaceship full of giant robot aliens, he could possibly be this bored. But he was. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Ratchet flashed him a kind smile, then went back to soldering. Spike wasn’t sure what he was working on, but it looked complicated. At a smaller table, Chip laboured over another part of the same device, his attention wholly absorbed.
“I dunno,” Sparkplug replied. There was the sound of metal knocking against metal. “Think I wanted to be a car mechanic for a while, work on classic models.”
“Instead, you got us,” Ratchet said.
“Well, you are kinda classic,” Sparkplug laughed. “But yeah, Spike, I fell into engineering by accident. Why’d you ask?”
Because I’m bored out of my tiny little mind, Spike thought. Everyone else has something to do, and I don’t. “Uh, no reason,” he replied. “Just interested.”
“What about you?” Chip said, not looking up from his work. Spike opened his mouth to respond about half a second before he realised that the question wasn’t aimed at him. He shut it again, trying to make it look like a yawn.
Ratchet propped the soldering iron in its stand, a curious expression on his face.
“What kind of a question’s that?” Sparkplug called, his lower half vanishing after the rest of him. “You know he was never a kid!”
“I dunno,” Ratchet said. “When I was new off the conveyor, I did some pretty dumb things.”
“Ha!” Sparkplug’s voice echoed. “I bet you did!”
Spike perked up; he’d heard of Ratchet’s stories, but had never been lucky enough to be around when they got told. Chip also looked interested, although he was still tinkering with the circuit boards.
“Wouldn’t call any of them the work of a mature adult,” Ratchet mused. “But yes, Chip’s question…”
Spike un-perked.
“I was built as a medic,” Ratchet said. “It’s in my programming. It’s all I wanted to be back when I was new, the best damned medic there ever was.” He shrugged and offered Chip the same kind smile he’d given to Spike a minute or so before. “But your core programming only dictates your dreams for so long. I still wanted to be a medic, hard luck if I didn’t, but I used to get these urges, still do sometimes, like I’d make a really great party planner.”
Chip snickered, and Sparkplug’s laugher rang through the maintenance space.
“A party planner?” Spike said, trying to look as though he’d known it was a joke all along.
Ratchet shrugged. “A mech’s gotta dream.”